A Happy Ending
by Ahlidarma
Summary: Does telling a sad story in reverse let it have a happy ending? A look at the evolution of the relationship between Anderson and Shepard, told from the End to the Beginning. (Rating for character death, coarse language; all rights belong to Bioware)
1. Chapter 10

Anderson thinks it's less the bullet in his guts and more the grief that's killing him.

Blood comes up his throat and drips out his mouth, staining the logo on his uniform that says he's Alliance. He tries to sit up straighter and his legs spasm. His feet leave trails on the floor, dirt and dust and blood from the dead in London. His whole body shakes. He's broken. He's going numb, but not enough to dull the pain. His heart pumps and his lungs push air in and out and he still can't get enough breath to feel like he's not suffocating. Dirty sweat runs in his eyes. He wants to pretend that it's because of this that he's crying, but he can't. Shepard looks worse than he does.

His blood, hot and slippery, leaks out of his stomach in time to his pulse.

He's _dying_, and she looks worse.

_She's_ dying, and it's killing him.

He doesn't have the words to describe how much it hurts. It's leaving a ragged hole in him, its edges festering, worse than the ripped skin that's barely covering his ripped intestines. It doesn't matter that his heartbeat is ticking his time away like a metronome because this grief isn't going to end when his life does.

He wonders if he could have done something more. Something _else_. If wonders if he could have stopped Saren twenty years ago, would he have protected the galaxy? Protected the humans? Earth? He wonders if he would have protected that scrawny girl with the pale freckles and the glossy black hair and the look in her big blue eyes that said that she _knew_ there was ugliness in the world.

He wants to tell her she's come so far from being that scared little girl, homeless and alone.

"You did good, child," is all he manages to say. "You did good. I'm…proud…of you."

He means to say more. He means to tell her he's sorry for not being stronger when she was gone. To tell her that she's the best humanity could ever have to offer. Tell her he's glad she's found a family. That she should have gotten a god damned promotion the _first_ time she saved the galaxy.

He means to tell her that she's got herself one lucky turian. To ask her if she's taking his name, what the name of their first kid's gonna be. That she's gonna be a _great _mother. To tell her not to blame herself for everything that's bad in the universe.

He means to tell her that he loves her. That she's a daughter to him, and he loves her.

He means to say more.

But he dies, and he can't.


	2. Chapter 9

Anderson's got too much on his plate to be embarrassed about the things Shepard knows about his relationship with Kahlee.

He has a resistance to lead. Wounded to care for. Troops to organize. He wants to just _talk_ to Shepard, to let her know that everyone's proud of what she's doing, what she's made of herself. He wants her to know a lot of things, things that he should have told her after Torfan. After Aratoht. But he's tired, and she's tired, and he's just so _relieved_ that Kahlee's alright, and it slips his mind. He tells himself he'll bring it up next time.

She checks in again, and then again. The bruises around her glowing eyes make her look sick.

Her holograph is transparent, and he sees the destruction of their homeworld through her blue form. His projector is set up yesterday in a ruined elementary school, the day before in a roofless apartment. The day before that, a ditch. He hopes these details don't make it to her end, hopes she can't see the reaping behind him, even though he knows she can. He cuts his transmission short when her eyes look over his shoulder. Today he's set up by the dead bodies, because there isn't anyplace that _isn't_ by the dead bodies.

He knows she blames herself. She tells him she'll end the war or die trying.

He tells Joker to keep an eye on her. Joker tells him she has nightmares, and Anderson worries about her.

Hackett calls regularly, and Shepard checks in frequently, but they don't have a regular connection on the ground. He updates them when he can. Enemy numbers, patterns of attack, allied retaliation. Intel gets passed back and forth between the Earth, space, and the Normandy. It's rare that all three of them are talking to each other at the same time. The news is never good when they are, but everyone is too exhaustedly busy to even think, let alone feel depressed.

Low-key anxiety thrums in his veins, for Hackett, and for Earth. For Shepard.

He remembers as her image dissipates into static that he wanted to have a heart to heart. But he doesn't call back. They have time. She'll get it done, and they can talk afterwards.

They have time, and he has a resistance to lead.


	3. Chapter 8

Hackett is sending him warning glances, but Anderson's too angry to care.

He feels sick. He hates Hackett for agreeing to this. He hates _himself_ for agreeing to this.

Shepard's smoking a cigarette, something he's learned she only does when she feels helpless. The first time he sees her do it, it's after Torfan, when people start to call her _Butcher_ instead of _Shepard_. Her hands shake. She clenches her fists to stop them and she crushes her cigarette by accident. It's an expensive brand, but Vega tells him she's got more stashed away in her room.

Vega tells him a lot of things. He tells him she works out until she's sick. She's broken so many punching bags that she's not allowed to use the weight room anymore. He tells him she sits in her room and stares out her big window, her eyes white while blue eezo static crawls slowly across her skin.

He tells him she smokes often, her gaze glassy and faraway.

Her dog tags are heavy in his pocket.

The other Councilors are present, their orange holographs flickering along the wall. Valern is staring at Shepard as she begins to pace. She's dressed in fatigue bottoms and a standard-issue white tank top, and Anderson knows it's the first time the Councilor has seen the macabre graffiti of Lazarus. Her arms are piebald, patches of her original skin still bright with tattoos connected by seams of glowing red scars to patches of flawless, unmarred flesh. Anderson sees more scars shining through the fabric of her top, and he feels queasy.

Hackett puts a hand on his shoulder as Shepard and the asari sit down.

They face each other, and the purple woman takes Shepard's wrists. Her eyes go black.

She's asking her all kinds of questions, and Shepard answers in a single tone with no inflection, her eyes looking at the asari's violet face without seeing it. The questions start out innocent—_What's your name? How long have you served?_—but are soon personal, invasive, and it comes out that she's having sex with an alien. The Council is shocked. They disapprove. Anderson is filled with dark satisfaction as he watches Sparatus try to condemn her for interracial sex and commend her for interracial cooperation at the same time. He grits his teeth when the questions get dark, twisted—_Do you recall dying? Did you enjoy your mission on Aratoht?_—and Shepard grimaces. Her nose is bleeding; it runs down her face and splatters on her chest. When she asks about the visions, Shepard shows her.

He's not sure which woman screams, but it's animal. Terrified. Suddenly Anderson is roaring at the Council, and he's not even trying to pitch his voice so it doesn't carry. The asari is crying uncontrollably. Shepard's on her hands and knees, puking her guts out.

Hackett is on the floor next to her, staining the knees of his uniform as he holds her hair away from her face.

Vega carries her out of the room, and only now does he regret shouting. It's drawn a crowd in the hallway, and Shepard doesn't need more people to see her like this.

The interrogator kills herself, afterward.

Tevos calls to tell him, and the whole time the only thing in his mind is that Shepard would be devastated if she found out. There's sympathy, in the councilor's voice, for knowing what lives in Shepard's head. But there's suspicion, in her eyes. She wonders how a human can live with that for years when an asari couldn't for a week. The council, he thinks, is always _looking_ for a reason not to trust her.

He doesn't understand why. He doesn't understand _them_.

So he resigns.

He knows how to fight best with guns, not words. Humanity needs a soldier, and Udina is more than happy to step in as humanity's politician.

When Vancouver gets hit, he tells himself the reason he's sending her away is so she can rally support. Other races trust her, and she's got the best ship that's ever been made. She can protect herself. It's for the good of the galaxy.

All of those things are true, he knows, but none of them are the reason.


	4. Chapter 7

Hackett has called him "sir" for more than two years, and Anderson is finally used to it.

He's not used to _everyone else_ in the galaxy calling him that, too. Shepard tells him he's perfect for the job, but she hasn't convinced him yet. He's trying not to let her down, because she doesn't have much faith to spare. He doesn't want her to lose any that she has left in him.

So he makes nice with everyone.

They don't make nice back.

Udina's never forgotten that right hook, and he makes sure Anderson hasn't, either. Sparatus's hostility towards him for the First Contact War is covered by a layer of professional indifference so thin it's practically imaginary. Tevos waits patiently for his replacement. Valern can't respect a soldier.

He thinks forward. He makes his calls for a stronger army against a stronger enemy.

But the threat is nebulous. Three-fourths of the Council thinks it's nothing more than a crazy woman's fever dream. They want _proof_, but he can't see them getting it without cracking open Shepard's head. So they ignore it. Pretend the knowledge doesn't exist. But it looms over everything Anderson does. It builds up slowly, like a fog, obscuring colors and details and shapes until he's only sure that they're _out there_, just beyond his line of sight. They're _everywhere_, and Shepard's the only one doing anything about it.

He hates that she doesn't confide in him like she used to.

They talk, briefly, before her and her ship just disappear. No one sees them.

Then Hackett calls him, asking him to come to Vancouver. It's about Shepard. And it's the first time he's heard any news since Normandy's gone off-radar.

Hackett's telling him about a secret mission he's sent her on. About an Amanda Kenson, Batarian space. "The Project." He talks about a planet called Aratoht, but that one is in the past tense. Hackett looks uncomfortable. He's too professional, has too much authority, to look _contrite_, but it's the first time Anderson's ever seen him like this.

Aratoht is past tense because Shepard blew it up, Hackett tells him.

Three. Hundred. _Thousand_?

Hackett is surprised Shepard didn't balk, is surprised she's turning herself in.

Anderson isn't. He knows she does whatever it takes, because that's exactly the kind of soldier he's taught her how to be. She isn't scared of consequences.

The Normandy docks under heavy guard, staffed at under quarter-capacity. He's brought in Vega to be Shepard's keeper. The kid's young, brash, but he's got a lot in common with her. Anderson thinks she deserves at least one supporter.

Her first words ask him what the hell they've done to prepare.

_Nothing_, he says. He wishes to every god that he was lying.

Rage burns in her eyes. They scream at each other. A part of him thinks she's acting like a moody teenager, like he's an overbearing father forbidding her from dating the boy she likes. Part of him thinks she's just being stubborn. She can't see the bigger picture, can't see that he knows best, that he's _protecting_ her.

The rest of him thinks that _she's_ the one seeing the big picture. It's _everyone else_ who's throwing a tantrum.

But it's too late. He tells her the Alliance is relieving her of duty. He's asked the Council to revoke her status as Spectre, and he tells her that, too. It's the only way he can make sure she's safe, but this he doesn't tell her.

He expects anger. Violence. Instead, there's just naked hurt.

She takes off her dog tags, but she doesn't set them in his waiting palm. She looks him in the eye as she drops them on the floor, and Anderson's sure she's lost that little bit of faith she had left.

He picks up her tags as she's led away, and puts them in his pocket.


	5. Chapter 6

It's humiliating that the first he hears of her revival, it's from that charlatan al-Jilani.

She asks him if the Council is aware that their pet Spectre isn't quite dead anymore.

He thinks guiltily back to the messages he received a few weeks ago. They're marked from Shepard. Dated just after the second anniversary of her death. They come from a Cerberus extranet domain, and Anderson thinks it's a sick joke. He finally writes back that they can shove whatever they're doing right up their asses. There's no reason in the entire universe why the Shepard he knew would ally with Cerberus. He gets only one more message, after that.

_I guess you didn't really know me, then_.

But he can't tell al-Jilani that. He can't say that Shepard tried to contact her mentor but he didn't believe her. So he throws "classified" around like it's the only word he knows.

Anderson's on the comm with Hackett when his interview airs. It's only his decades of command experience that keep her from making him look downright _incompetent_. He glowers at her with enough authority that even _she_ can't spin the story that the galaxy is in the hands of three bungling aliens and a witless human, too oblivious to realize that the late Commander Shepard's no longer late.

Instead, she plays it like the Council is just too stupid to keep their classified missions a damn secret.

Al-Jilani's a good investigator. She ferrets out her tidbits and pieces them together better than both the Alliance _and_ the Council, evidently. He dreads to think what she could discover if she could get her weasely little hands on some security clearance. She's got the potential to be a huge asset to the Alliance. It's too bad she's out to prove that Shepard's the worst thing to happen to humanity since the aliens.

He doesn't blame Shepard for decking the woman.

By the time Shepard accepts his invitation to the Citadel, the whole galaxy is aware that she's not dead. No one's sure if she's _back from_ the dead of if she was never _actually_ dead in the first place, but they're definitely sure she's not dead _now_. Khalisah's black eye and broken nose make sure of it.

Al-Jilani, at least, is convinced that Shepard's the same as she ever was. She's two for two on assault when attempting an interview.

He knows Shepard looks like shit. He's seen footage from grainy second-hand security cameras on Omega. It still startles him when he finally sees her face to face.

She doesn't have freckles anymore, he thinks first.

She doesn't look…_finished_, he thinks second. Her eyes glow red, and she's got a grid of gashes across her face that do the same. She rolls her shoulder like she fired a krogan rifle but forgot to brace it. When she talks, her voice is flat, tired. She's still belligerent and rude, but her manner's more withdrawn than it was when she was alive the first time. Apathetic.

She's flanked by a turian he recognizes with faint surprise as Vakarian and a tattooed woman who reminds him a hell of a lot of Shepard when she first enlisted. All three eye him suspiciously.

He knows he's lost most, if not all, of her loyalty after that damned message. It stings, knowing his protégé doesn't quite trust him anymore. Still, it's the only thing he can think to say.

"It's good to have you back."


	6. Chapter 5

It's the highest point in his life, when Shepard crawls out from under its corpse. She's bruised, her arm looks broken, but she's smiling.

Anderson has a hard time remembering the last time she's smiled.

Hundreds of Alliance soldiers are dead. The Citadel is in ruins. He's got to be a _politician_, but still. It's the highest point.

It's the absolutely fucking lowest point, when the Normandy comes back and she doesn't.

He's got to make a speech, because everyone expects it. He's the god damned Councilor now. He was her teacher. He's onstage, waiting for his turn. They ask the Normandy crew if they want to say anything, at the funeral. The quarian, Tali'Zorah, cries so hard they can still hear her after she shuts off her auditory emulators. Ashley is stone-faced and pale, mute. Dr. T'Soni rocks herself gently. Vakarian shakes so hard he has to sit down. An entire detachment of hardened marines are reduced to ugly, noisy tears.

Urdnot Wrex answers for them all.

_Words will not honor her memory_, he says.

Everyone from the Alliance is dressed in their very best blues. Everyone else is dressed in unrelieved black. It makes the crowd look like one huge bruise, sickly, seething, spread across every tiny bit of floor space in the Presidium Tower like mold. Like flies on a carcass. The Council wanted to hold the funeral here, to remind everyone that she was victorious. All Anderson can look at is the spot where she limped her way out from under a world-eating monster, _smirking_.

His apprentice is dead. He doesn't realize she was family until sometime in the second half of Hackett's speech.

Afterwards, the crew's goes to a bar to drink until they can't remember. Anderson joins them. When they're done, he's going to go back to his apartment and drink until he can't think anymore. Can't see anymore. He's going to drink until he can't hear anymore. Can't hear the mournful keens of an entire galaxy. Can't hear Joker _breaking_. Can't hear all the things he's never said to her.

He's going to drink until he can't feel anymore.

Maybe then he'll forget that Shepard's…

...gone.


	7. Chapter 4

He's not vain enough to think he's taught her everything she knows, but he's taught her a lot of it. She's one hell of a soldier. Devious. Tenacious. Ruthless. She's got the instincts of a predator. There are Admirals that he trusts at his back less than Shepard. She may be young—younger than the Alliance believes, even—but God have mercy on anyone who thinks she's _stupid_.

So when Shepard wakes up and starts talking about Protheans and ancient sentient machines and mass extinction, he trusts her.

Ambassador Udina doesn't. He's using her to get Saren declared rogue, to get humanity in the Spectres, but he thinks she's just babbling gibberish. Hallucinations from a concussion, like Dr. Chakwas warned. Udina thinks it's suspicious that she's gotten a whole frigate to believe her when she's been stationed on it barely a week. Anderson thinks it's because she's proven herself capable. Dependable. The Ambassador thinks it's because she's conniving.

Udina's always been an ass. Anderson itches to smack that look off his face.

Instead, he steps down. He doesn't want to retire, but if that's what it takes to give Shepard her chance, that's what he'll do.

He waits in the Embassies, completely in the dark, while she runs off to all corners of the Citadel. She leaves with Lieutenant Alenko and that Chief they found on Eden Prime. She comes back with a turian C-Sec agent and the meanest-looking krogan he's ever seen. They've got a jumpy quarian in tow.

The evidence she's got is more damning than anything Anderson could have hoped for.

And just like that, she's a Spectre. She's got the Normandy, and the aliens are following her like she's a damn general. She takes off after Saren, and the only thing Anderson can do is feed her intel and offer advice.

He gets reports of her activities all across the galaxy. He takes vindictive satisfaction from the Council chewing out Udina for Shepard's lack of proper respect. He knows Hackett's constantly giving her missions, and he knows she does as the Admiral asks, because she's too loyal to the Alliance to just wash her hands of them. He knows the Fifth Fleet gives her all its dirty work. She's untouchable, after all. Anderson thinks they're abusing her, especially when things start to get rough, but she doesn't complain.

He watches his acolyte chase Saren's heels, closing the gap.

She finds Benezia's daughter on Therum, in a volcano. There're whispers of some mind-controlling plant on Feros that he only hears about because he's camped out in Udina's office. There's a high body count on that one, but she still manages to save the colony. Noveria is obscured by even more red tape when she leaves. She's cracked a shady administrator, apparently. He guesses that's only because he was in her way. Shepard doesn't care too much for bureaucracy. Reports of the geth make it off the planet. Reports of the Rachni get hushed, though, because news of a living queen isn't going to be stabilizing. Anderson worries that the Council's only waiting until she deals with Saren to declare her rogue.

On Virmire, she blows up part of her team to destroy the genophage cure Saren had cooking.

When she gets back to the Citadel, the Council grounds her. Anderson'll be damned if they think they can screw Shepard like they did him. He knows she's beating herself up about the defeat. He knows she's not going to let that stop her from finishing this.

When he finds her in Flux, she's got a different alien tagging along, an asari. Benezia's kid, he thinks. The krogan is still at her back, and Anderson's sure he couldn't have done what she has. Aliens would not still be loyal to him if he murdered their mother and wiped out the cure for their plague.

She doesn't need a mentor anymore, and it makes him more than a little sad.

Still, he can help her with one last thing.

And Anderson grins, thinking that he'll finally get to punch that smug look off Udina's face.


	8. Chapter 3

Hackett calls him, on a high security channel, to let him in on Normandy. She's a top-of-the-line prototype ship, he says.

Anderson's in command.

He spends hours getting briefed about her. He learns she's a deep-scout frigate, flagship of the new stealth class. He crams every detail he can remember into his brain about her Tantalus Drive Core. He's told she's a joint effort, built equal parts by the Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. She's financially backed by the Council.

Most importantly, she's going to run the mission that assesses the candidate for humanity's first Spectre.

He's told the Council's assigning a turian Spectre to oversee the mission. Nihlus. Anderson thinks it's just as likely he's there to monitor their investment. He and the turian are forwarded a list of potential candidates, approved by the Council for "satisfactory service history."

Shepard's made the list, he sees. Barely. He finds her name at the bottom, second to last. Anderson knows she's been on the Brass's radar since she enlisted. The ruckus she causes back then nearly gets him demoted. It's not blood in her veins, it's piss and vinegar. She's got more guts than an entire platoon of Alliance soldiers. She's their go-to soldier for difficult missions. So when Hackett asks him to recommend an officer for them to back, he's only got one answer.

Nihlus has the same one. Turns out he's had an eye on Shepard for years now, too.

Anderson orders her back from shore leave. Three other officers, recommended by Ambassador Udina, Councilor Sparatus, and Councilors Valern and Tevos, he orders back as well. He interviews them, one by one, in a windowed room full of psychiatrists and Councilor's Aides and Udina's smothering personality.

Sparatus's nominee's the oldest, he learns. Soldier class. Least amount of MVC ranks, but rated 7 in all of them. Son of two naval officers that Anderson's served with in the past. He meets Anderson's eyes confidently, and Anderson can see why he would appeal to Sparatus. The next candidate, Udina's, has the cleanest record. Lowest proficiency scores of the four. Anderson recognizes him as the survivor from Akuze. Infiltrator. Nine consecutive years of expert ranked accuracy with a sniper rifle. Valern's and Tevos's pick has the longest service history. Sentinel. She pauses to consider before answering each of Anderson's questions.

Shepard's the youngest. Vanguard. Highest number of hospitalizations. Highest proficiency scores. Shortest service. Most decorated. Longest record of disciplinary actions. He looks her in the eye the whole time, and not once does she break contact.

He and Hackett and Udina argue at length, when the interviews are over.

Udina doesn't want to approve Shepard. He thinks she's unstable. Irresponsible. Anderson watches him pace back and forth, and he can feel the frustration showing on his face. He reminds him that she's the only N7 that made the cut.

_She gets the job done_.

Anderson can see his scowl when the Ambassador turns his head. He's considering how much he can trust Anderson's word when Shepard's so clearly his favorite marine.

When he opens his mouth, Udina only asks if that's the kind of person they want protecting the galaxy.

"It's the only kind of person who can," Anderson answers.


	9. Chapter 2

When the N6s return from Torfan, Kyle's given a promotion to Major and quietly retired. _She's_ court-martialed.

They throw her in the brig at the Rio de Janeiro base. They take away her rank, her uniform, her guns. They take away her amp, too, but she could make mass effect fields before she'd even had one. It doesn't exactly disarm her.

So they keep her in her own cellblock.

They call Anderson to testify on her behalf, because he's the officer that recommended her to the program. They're unsure how much to tell him though, because he's a newly-ranked Captain. Some of the higher-ups aren't sure that he'll keep a professional attitude towards his favorite soldier. The lower-ranked officers are afraid of the same thing, but for different reasons. So they give him the outline without any of the details. Top-secret, they say.

She's not allowed any visitors, but one of the Admirals pulls some strings. Hackett, he thinks. The Brass knows she's a powerful resource. She ruffles a _lot_ of god damn feathers, but she's got some friends in high places that she doesn't know about. They respect her talent. He has to visit under supervision, but he's not planning on telling her any secrets, so it doesn't matter.

The first time he visits, she's smoking. It's the first time he's ever _seen_ her do it, but he knows she's had the habit for years. The detail only sticks out to him because he knows she's not allowed any possessions in her cell besides her clothes and the mattress and the toilet.

They chat, small talk while the members of her trial take a break from throwing accusations her way. Nearly everyone's willing to call her a war criminal and see her kicked out.

_Lieutenant Shepard is a disgrace to the uniform_, they say. _She's not a marine, she's a butcher_.

When he mentions the rumors, her hand shakes so badly she drops her cigarette. It bounces outside the cell bars, and her guard steps on it to put it out. It's the first time he's seen her show any response to her situation. The guard reaches into a pocket and passes her a new cigarette, then a lighter. He's got the balls to not even look guilty when Anderson watches him.

The second time he visits, she's lying on the bare concrete floor. _Because it's cold_, she tells him. She's drenched in sweat from whatever workout she's managed to do in a six by eight space. The scar on her cheek stands out even more when her face is flushed.

The next time, she's reading a book. It's worn, missing the covers and pieces of its pages, and it has _HUDSON_ written in large letters on the title page. He thinks it must be someone's favorite; you don't see many paper books anymore. She hands the book back to her guard when she sees him approach, and he tucks it carefully into a breast pocket after he marks the page she's on.

Anderson's at the villa for just over three weeks, in total. The last testimony is given by her N7 instructor, the same one who taught Anderson's class, thirty years ago. He's got a reputation as the hardest hard-ass in the entire Alliance military. He tells them that if every soldier was like Shepard, they would've _exterminated_ the turians. The humans sure as shit would never lose another war, he says.

Anderson laughs so loud he gets reprimanded by the panel.

He tells her the news himself, when they reach a verdict.

When he finds her in her cell, her guard's sitting on a stool just outside it. They're arguing about something, and they're not speaking English. Or the Earth common. French, maybe, he thinks. They gesture with their hands, but they aren't in each other's' faces, and he gets the impression they're in a debate. Her guard stands up and salutes when he notices Anderson. They speak for a few moments. _Philosophy_, he learns, and he thinks it's _just like her_ to discuss philosophy with her jailer.

He nods a dismissal to the guard before offering his hand to Shepard.

"Congratulations, _Commander_," he says, not-so-subtly emphasizing her new rank.

The surprise in her eyes is clear before she manages to blink it away. She grabs his hand and shakes it.

Anderson grins. He knows it's unprofessional, but there's only the guard here to witness it. He hopes it's not the last time he gets to throw the new N7 off-balance.


	10. Chapter 1

He's got her upper arm in a firm grip, and she grits her teeth against the pain it causes in her broken shoulder. She's got medigel slathered all over it, but he knows firsthand that it only blocks so much of the pain.

"_Listen_, _Shepard_," he says.

All his superiors can see is a tattooed punk with no fucking respect. They see a delinquent whose only record is a sketchy medical history from the free clinic run by the base. All _that_ contains is a log of broken bones, lacerations, and two abortions.

Anderson sees a petite gangster who got caught trying to steal an officer's gun. He sees a girl who got a broken arm and a bruised face when the officer tried to take her to task. He sees an Alliance officer with missing teeth getting treated for a black eye. Broken nose. Cracked cheekbone. Dislocated wrist. Broken ribs. Broken fingers. Bruised knee.

He goes out on a limb for her, and his superiors only agree because he's bet his career that she'll be a good investment.

He tells her that she's got two options. She can go to prison, since she _insists_ she's eighteen, for assaulting an officer of the Alliance Navy. Nobody can find any records on her, so they can't _disprove_ her age, even though he knows she's not fooling anyone.

He'd bet on just sixteen, at the _oldest_.

Or, he tells her, since she _insists_ she's eighteen, she can enlist. It would be at least a year, more likely two, he says, before she gets an assignment. She'll get surgically implanted with a bio-amp, and she'll undergo some gene therapy. They'll have to run more tests on her than they would a normal recruit, since she's got no paperwork on her history.

Her eyes dart around nervously, taking in him, the sheepish injured officer, the other soldiers in the room.

He hopes she enlists. She's still a damned _kid_, but she's survived on the street since was six, apparently. He feels a bit guilty for not trying harder to find her when she disappeared. If she can kick a Sergeant's ass with no formal training, imagine how deadly she'll be with some instruction, he rationalizes. She's a scrawny teenager, but she's a gang leader's right hand. Hell, just the fact alone that she can use biotics with no amplifier should have the Alliance _begging_ her to join.

She roughly shakes off his hand. Blood smudges her forehead. Her split lip has turned an ugly shade of purple. Her light blue eyes stand out sharply against her dirty skin, and they stare him in the eye.

She gives him an imprecise salute, wincing at the pain in her collarbone.

_She'd better be one hell of an investment_, they tell him.

During the party after the ceremony, he works his way slowly through the crowd. He stops frequently to offer congratulations, occasionally to offer condolences. He's looking for Shepard, among others, but everyone's in their dress blues. They start to look the same, especially from across the room. She's not the only marine he's recommending, but he's betting the most money on _her_ making it all the way to 7.

He finds her among her squad, all toasting Kyle as he shyly shows off his Star of Terra. Good. All the commissioned officers in the unit have gotten a recommendation from someone or another, and he can tell them all at once. He's got a pretty long list to get through. The celebrating marines refill their shot glasses as someone starts to make another toast, but they fall silent when they catch sight of Anderson. The group salutes him, and it's only a _slightly_ drunken gesture all around. Most of them have abandoned their jackets, and some of them have rolled up their sleeves. Shepard's undone her top few buttons, and the tattoos on her biceps and shoulders are visible through the thin fabric.

Anderson plucks a full glass out of a soldier's hand and raises it towards the mass of the group. He names off the nominated officers present, nodding to each in turn. He tells them they've been asked to join the N7 program. They begin classes in two weeks. He holds out his shot glass, and waits for someone to complete the toast.

All of them are stunned. They look at back and forth between each other, but no one moves. Finally Shepard grins, pulling at the scar on her cheek. It spans from cheekbone to jaw, and it's pink and shiny with new skin. She slams her glass against his, and they toss back the booze. It burns nicely down his throat, and he thinks absently that the Alliance isn't sparing any expense for this particular celebration.

He salutes the group, then turns away, looking for more people on his list. He's still got a lot of officers to get through.


	11. Prologue

The part of Hungary they're stationed in is a huge shithole, he thinks.

The Alliance tries to stay out of the affairs of single countries, but they've got a base not far from here. They want a unit there to monitor the riots. Make sure they don't damage Alliance property.

The thing that Anderson notices most is that there's no middle ground between the slums and the rich parts of the city. It's like there's an income threshold. Anyone who doesn't make quite enough money doesn't have the resources to protect their properties. He and his unit make rounds throughout the city centers. Schools. Residential neighborhoods. Factories. They arrest someone they find with an Alliance-issue uniform, clearly stolen. Their presence prevents the majority of trouble, though.

They spend most of their time patrolling hospitals.

He hates it. It smells like infection. Like piss and blood. The hospitals in the ghettos are the worst, crammed to the brim with patients. They have to step around them in the hallways. He's come to recognize some of them.

There's a particular little girl that he sees frequently in one of the worst hospitals. She's tiny. She's got black hair and blue eyes and she's always dirty. He notices her because she's always huddled protectively over a little boy with the same black hair and blue eyes. She glows with static when Anderson tries to talk to her. He asks an orderly about them, instead. Eezo exposure, he's told. She gets biotics, he gets seizures. Apparently the government is too poor to get her into a special program. Or maybe it's just that they don't know. Maybe they don't care. They don't want to waste resources helping a freak and her twin brother. He's told they're Shepherds.

He's heard the phrase before. There's an orphanage a street over called _The Shepherd's something-or-other_. Orphans are referred to by their orphanage, because there are so many around.

Anderson's never figured out if there're so many _orphanages_, or so many _orphans_. Either one seems pretty bleak to him.

The next time Anderson's unit is patrolling the hospital, a nurse comes up to him. She recognizes him as the soldier asking after the two little children, she explains in a heavy accent. The boy died, she says. The little girl simply left, and no one can find her. The city's on the country's edge, so there's no way to know if she's still even _in_ the country. Or alive. Enough people knew them to be worried, but it's a small worry, one that's easily pushed aside for more pressing issues. They weren't important children.

Anderson feels…_disappointed_…at the news. Earth is in its second golden age. Not golden enough to protect its orphans, evidently.

His unit isn't likely to be stationed here again. The Hungarian government is sending out troops from other cities to police this one. Anderson's got about another year before the construction on the Hastings is done. His superiors tell him he's serving on it, XO, once it's done. A little kid like that, alone on the streets isn't going to last long. Even if she does, she was a beautiful child. He knows it's not a golden enough age to not have perverts. Besides. He's only a Lieutenant. He doesn't have a lot of pull.

Still, he tells that nurse that he'll look out for her if he ever sees her again.

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

_So yeah. Turns out it's REALLY HARD to write a story backwards. Foreshadowing gets a little…complicated. __But it was still really fun! Was it worth it? Let me know what you guys think! Feel free to give me another challenge or to suggest a prompt._

_Thanks so much for reading!_


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